True Art

Chapter Eleven

MATTHEW'S POV

The taxi pulled up outside a snow globe. Okay, it wasn't a snow globe, but it resembled one. The house was a two-storey stone cottage with a thatch roof, a small garden of flowers that were illuminated by the car's headlamps, and a chocolate-box quality that made my heart sing.

It was perfection.

Inside, the hall had a beautiful floor laid with colourful patterned tiles. The large mirror Remi had bought earlier that week now hung over an ornate hall table. Everything was so perfectly presented and displayed, almost like a museum. Remi had remembered to grab my bag from his car and brought it in the taxi. As we stood in the hallway, he turned to me and smiled.

"I'll just run upstairs and leave this in your room. Find the kitchen and put the kettle on. We need something to sober us up a bit. That brandy has gone straight to my head."

I made my way slowly through the narrow hallway and up a step into a library room. It was dark and cosy, and I wanted to wrap myself up there with a book and hibernate. There was a door at the other side, and it led into a small study and an archway that lead into a huge renovated kitchen. It was filled with oak counters and soft, warm materials. Everything blended and melded seamlessly.

And that was when it hit me.

It was all so perfect. So neat and orderly, everything in its place, visually pleasing and curated. But it was missing something. And that something was the messiness and realness of a life. Of a home.

I saw it then in Remi's eyes as he appeared in the doorway and stared at me. This man had everything, except the one thing he needed. I had none of the things he had, but I could give him what he was missing. Maybe we were meant for each other?

I dove forward, stumbling into him and pinning him against the doorframe. Maybe I'd regret it, but I didn't care. As I lowered my lips, I could feel his heart thundering in his chest, the scent of his cologne, and the heat of his body drawing me in. I pressed my mouth against his, so gently, barely touching him. Then brushing his lips slowly, I sealed our kiss and folded against him as I felt his hands slide through my hair and pull me tighter to his hungry mouth.

I wanted to savour every moment: the taste of his tongue, the way his teeth felt smooth as my bottom lip grazed against them. His strong hands wrapped in my hair as he dragged me into a kiss that I was willing to drown in.

When we broke apart, we were panting, both of us flushed and glassy-eyed.

"That's, um… that was..." Remi said, running his hand through his grey hair.

"Sorry. Should I not have done that?" I blinked at him slowly, hoping he wanted this too.

"No!” He jerked at the loudness of his voice and laughed. “I didn’t mean to shout that. That was very nice.”

He stepped back and made his way to the kettle to fix us two mugs of tea. It would be so nice to have this life. Waking up in the mornings, wandering down in this beautiful old cottage and making breakfast. Reading in the library on rainy days and playing with his nieces at Christmas time when it snowed, the skies grey and heavy. It was all a dream. One that I had no business wanting.

I took a deep breath and exhaled, before reaching out my hand to take the mug from him.

Remi's expression was kind, and it filled me with pain. I wanted him more than he'd ever know. But I knew he wouldn't let it happen.

"It's late. Let's call it a night." He looked at me expectantly.

"Yes, good idea. Where's my room?" I said, heading back towards the hallway.